The Oderschwank Effect
by GrimmUlquigrrrl
Summary: A teenage Ulquiorra, a very annoyed Grimmjow, and the Aizen that put Grimmjow in charge of Ulquiorra. Everything changes all of a sudden, and Grimmjow has to deal with the consequences. He just doesn't know how yet. Rated M!
1. Chapter 1

Grimmjow headed out of the hallway that his room was down, carding a hand through his unusual hair. Damn, why did Aizen always call meetings first thing in the morning? He swore it was just to tick him off. He _hated_ having to drag his ass out of bed in the morning. He stepped out into the main hall- and immediately leapt back, hiding behind the corner. He grinned wildly. Well, it looked like there was going to be some early morning conflict with his favorite archnemesis. He put an eager hand on the blue hilt of Pantera.

"Don't bother attempting a surprise attack," Ulquiorra said. damn him and his perpetually-sounding-like-he's-talking-about-nothing-more-interesting-than-the-weather voice! "I am already aware that you are there." Grimmjow 'tch'ed and stepped out into plain sight of the oncoming emocar, hand tightening on his sword. His good mood was gone as suddenly as it had come.

"What the hell is up with you?" he growled. "If you insist that you're so much fucking stronger than me, then you gotta fight me and prove it!"

Ulquiorra just kept coming at his usual pace, looking so bored. God, Grimmjow hated that face! "You have presented the same argument every time that you have attempted to lure me into battle. I told you the first time that it is useless," Ulquiorra intoned. Grimmjow glowered hatefully, every muscle in his body tensing with loathing for this pretentious _thing_ that he was forced to call his superior. Heat built up in his hands and forearms. He wanted to hit something; he wanted to hit Ulquiorra.

As the other arrancar passed him, Grimmjow released all that heat into a single punishing blow; one that never hit. Ulquiorra caught his wrist easily, not even bothering to look at him as he threw Grimmjow's arm to the side. "Do not make a fool of yourself, Sexta." That was it! That was what pushed Grimmjow over the edge. He lashed out violently, the century and a half of built up ferocity and hatred unleashing itself into singly the most powerful blow that Grimmjow ever loosed.

His sword came out of its sheath with a metallic swish, one that Ulquiorra turned his head at. He looked just as typically bored as always, but this time Grimmjow would land a hit. He could feel it. Ulquiorra's arm came up to block the hilt of Pantera as it came crashing down from above, but he had finally underestimated Grimmjow's power and his guard was too lax. Grimmjow's hilt slammed down with an earth-shattering force.

That wasn't the only thing that shattered. There was a sound like a china plate hitting a hardwood floor, and both pairs of eyes went wide. Grimmjow got a look of Ulquiorra looking shocked, unregistered surprise dilating his pupils as the pieces of his hollow bone hung crazily in the air. Then Ulquiorra fell hard on his back, and Grimmjow stumbled backwards.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit shit shit. Grimmjow clasped the sides of his head, staring down at the lump of clothes. Holy fuck. It looked like Ulquiorra had just evaporated. Grimmjow whirled around crazily to see if anyone had seen what had just happened. Maybe- maybe that was what happened to an arrancar whose mask broke. Not that he had ever heard of it before, but hollow masks didn't just go around breaking, did they? No. no they did not.

He belatedly realized that his sword was still unsheathed. He quickly slid it into its preperscribed place, knowing how it would look if it was out and still hysterically rambling in his mind. Okay. So, if hollow masks didn't break easily, then- then nobody would believe he did it! Right? Everybody knew that Ulquiorra was stronger than Grimmjow. It was common knowledge. Suddenly the fact that had always been Grimmjow' kryptonite seemed like the best way out of this. Yeah. If he just waltzed away from here and acted like nothing happened, he could get away scot-free. He probably would. So, all he had to do was calm down and- and walk away. Yup. That was it. He stepped gingerly around Ulquiorra's things as if they could give him some sort of sickness or something. There was a lump in the fabric, but Grimmjow wasn't going to stop and look to see what it was. Curiosity wouldn't kill the cat. Not this time.

As he moved away, turning his back on Ulquiorra's remains in what he hoped was an inconspicuous way, he heard a rustling. He abruptly stopped. Oh, no. No no no. Nuh-uh. There was a quiet groan, and Grimmjow slowly turned around, praying all the while. God must have had his headphones on.

"Holy shit!"


	2. Chapter 2

"I broke him!" Grimmjow cried, bursting into the meeting. Everyone looked up at him, Aizen included. "I broke Ulquiorra!"

Aizen only smiled good-humoredly, like a father gently reprimanding his youngest child. "I highly doubt that you could do such a thing, Grimmjow," he said.

"I did!" Grimmjow shouted. "Look!" he pulled Ulquiorra in by the arm, thrusting forward the disgruntled… Grimmjow didn't know what to call him now the tiny form stumbled forward a little, one hand clutching his oversized pants to keep them from falling, those eyes that had always seemed oddly large even larger. Ulquiorra's hair hadn't shrunk when he had, and it hung down to the center of Ulquiorra's skinny shoulder blades at its longest, which was in the back, and the infamous tear tracks were gone. Ulquiorra had regressed into a teenager. But perhaps what was more noticeable than that was that his mask was gone. Completely gone.

Grimmjow could feel the air get sucked out of the room, the silence getting heavy. Everyone had questions, but the shock kept those questions from fully forming yet. Ulquiorra tried weakly to pull his arm from Grimmjow's strong grip. It didn't work. "Um, excuse me, could you please- let go?" he asked. His voice was definitely higher than it had been before. He wasn't exactly a soprano, but he wasn't as deep in the voicebox as he had been earlier even just that hour.

"Are you serious?" Grimmjow asked incredulously, still staring at the boy (who used to be a man) still tugging laxly at Grimmjow's fingers. "You really can't get out of this? He's serious," he said, addressing the rest of the room disbelievingly. "He really can't get out of a hold like this." He shook Ulquiorra a little to demonstrate said hold, and Ulquiorra jiggled a little. Normally Ulquiorra would have killed anyone who dared try to touch him, but he clearly wasn't normal any more. He had actually asked Grimmjow- the person he believed most worthy of the title 'trash'- to let go _please._

"I would like to know how this came about, Grimmjow-kun," Aizen said. the danger crackled behind his calm smile, and he heard Ulquiorra gulp next to him. Seriously?

"Well, I, uh…" Grimmjow said, looking around oddly. How could he explain this in a way that would get him killed? "Well, I kinda… um…"

"He broke his hollow mask," Szayel stated, looking slyly over as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. Everyone turned to look at him. "The same thing happened to the former third Espada, Neliel tu Oderschwank. The reiatsu leaking out of her broken mask made her spiritual form shrink and she became a child."

"What else can you tell me about this, Szayel?" Aizen asked.

"Well, Neliel's mask only cracked," Szayel said. "Ulquiorra's mask has been completely decimated, and he's still older than what Neliel turned out to be. He must have had a massive amount of reiatsu…" everyone looked at the teenage boy in awe, and they were all thinking the same thing. He must have been one of _them-_ a Vasto Lorde. The three top Espada were probably wondering whether Ulquiorra had really been stronger than them. "But he's lost 7/8ths of his reiatsu," Szayel continued. "He's become extremely weak."

"Yeah, I noticed," Grimmjow said, rolling his eyes. Ulquiorra looked at him cluelessly.

"Please attempt to refrain from your sarcasm on this matter, Grimmjow," Aizen said. "This _is_ your doing. I also believe that you can release him now. You aren't going to go anywhere, are you, Ulquiorra?"

"Schiffer," Ulquiorra said, then seemed to realize that he'd spoken out of turn and hunched into himself a little. "I, uh, I prefer Schiffer, Mr.….?"

"My name is Aizen Sosuke," Aizen said. "Can you not remember me."

"Um, have- have I met you?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Yes, Schiffer, you have," Aizen said. "You have met everyone in here, in fact." Ulquiorra looked around, intently peering at every face in the room. He was obviously searching for something familiar. Grimmjow let go of his arm belatedly.

"… Really?" Ulquiorra asked.

Aizen nodded. "You were the Cuarta Espada. Do you not remember anything?"

"Nothing," Ulquiorra said, shaking his head. "I- I'm not even really sure where this is."

"I see," Aizen said. "Well then, Grimmjow will answer all your questions." Grimmjow's jaw dropped. "He will also take care of any problems that you have."

"Whaat?" Grimmjow yelled. "I ain't doing that!"

"Yes you are," Aizen said, placing just the tiniest bit of spiritual pressure on Grimmjow's head. It was just a warning, it wasn't really heavy or anything, but Grimmjow could sense the threat. "This little fiasco is on you. You must take responsibility for your actions." Grimmjow looked at him, horrified. Aizen really expected him to be some teenager's keeper? And, worse, a teenager who used to be the person who made his death unbearable! Did he really not remember the time that he had ordered him to take care of Yammy's mutt? A little hand tugged at his sleeve.

"What?" he shouted, turning suddenly to Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra let go of the fabric in his grasp.

"Um, are you… Grimmjow-san?"he asked.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Grimmjow growled, turning back forward. Had the infamous fourth really sunk so low? He was beyond pathetic.

"…Grimmjow-san?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Whaddaya want?" Grimmjow barked.

"What's a Cuarta Espada?"

Grimmjow groaned.


	3. Chapter 3

"There," Grimmjow sighed. "That everything?"

"Um," Ulquiorra paused, fooling with a little trinket on Grimmjow's dresser, "can you explain the concept of these masks again? I don't understand where they come from." Grimmjow huffed, falling back onto his bed. They were in his room, where Ulquiorra would be staying, because Ulquiorra didn't know where his room was and Grimmjow actually didn't either.

"What's to explain?" he asked, exasperated. He had been telling the teen every piece of information he had at his disposal for hours. "It's a mask. You get it when you die." Ulquiorra looked up at him wide eyed.

"Die? I'm _dead?_" he asked. Grimmjow cocked a brow at him. He didn't even know that much? Man, everything really had been wiped away. Grimmjow almost felt sorry for him- as sorry as Grimmjow got, which wasn't very. Seriously, come on, this was a pretty shitty way to find out you died; not that it stopped Grimmjow from being tactless in talking about it.

"Yeah, yer dead," he said. "We all are." Ulquiorra put the glass bird back down, nodding his head slowly to himself.

"Okay," he said. Grimmjow got the feeling that the reason those words were spoken had nothing to do with the fact that he was listening. "I'm dead. I barely even remember living." Grimmjow saw a soft spot and grinned maniacally, heaving himself up from off the bed. He stalked forward. He may have been stuck with Ulquiorra, but finally he got his chance to fuck him up like he had always wanted to so bad.

"Really?" he asked, getting up close to Ulquiorra, who kept looking at the bird. "You don't remember much about your life. Yeah, you probably had a really loving family and a stable, well-paying job where you did what you loved. You probably got married and had kids, too. And owned a house, and had pets, and everything- and you can't remember any of it. How does that feel?" he taunted, watching Ulquiorra frown. He slammed his hand down onto the dresser top hard, the loud smack reverberating off of his beige walls. "Well?" he shouted in Ulquiorra's face. "How do you feel?"

"Jipped," Ulquiorra said simply. He actually kind of sounded frustrated and kind of POed. He didn't look up at the Sexta Espada, just thoughtfully and intensely staring at the top of the dresser. Grimmjow stared at him. Seriously? No, "it's none of your business," or "such feelings would be wasted," or "step away from me, trash"? No cold look, no infuriating brush off? Grimmjow 'tch'ed, backing off and turning around. He pulled the blinds open, letting some of the fake sunlight in. It kind of ticked him off that he could suddenly see emotion on that emotionless face.

"You ain't nothing like what I thought a teenage you would be like," he grumbled, pushing his blue couch farther against the wall under the windows. Grimmjow always liked the way that looked.

"What do you mean?" Ulquiorra asked curiously.

"I always figured you'd be some stick-up-the-ass, perfectionist punk or something. A spoiled little prick with super-high standards," Grimmjow said. "Oh, and an overachiever. Don't forget that you'd be an overachiever."

"Was I… good at things?" Ulquiorra asked, looking and Grimmjow almost nervously.

"Everything," Grimmjow said irritably.

"Oh."

There was silence for a few moments, one that Grimmjow wasn't going to break. Then Ulquiorra asked, "So if I'm dead, is this hell?" Grimmjow couldn't help but to bark out shocked laughter. It seemed to startle Ulquiorra.

"Pretty close," the blue-haired man said, "this is Hueco Mundo. I get the bed- you have to take the couch. This is _my_ room, after all," Grimmjow not-so-gently reminded. "And don't destroy anything or shit. I'll kick your ass up real good."

"Of course," Ulquiorra quickly agreed. "Thank you for letting me stay here- for the moment."

"Don't say that like it's my choice."

!#$%#!#$T%#$!$%$#$%$#$%T$#*($%*#()$(%*

Grimmjow sat up, stretching out his arms above his head to pull his muscles out. He grunted in satisfaction. Yup, that felt good. With a sudden shock like cold water he remembered Ulquiorra. He looked around frantically. The way his room was set up he could see everything; it was a safety precaution. If the room was looked at from a bird's eye view, his bed was nestled into the lower right hand corner and the door was in the upper right. The windows and couch were across from the door, and on an incut wall the bathroom door sat, in the lower left corner. On the wall between the wall with the door and the wall with the windows was the dresser, along with a little on the wall shelving. There was a lump in the sparse bedding on the couch.

Grimmjow groaned. Oh, shit, shit, shit. It hadn't been a dream. Not that he had actually expected it to be, but it would have been nice, and it was more likely than the reality. Except apparently not. Ulquiorra was still asleep- good. Grimmjow didn't need to deal with some kid poking in on his shower. He heaved himself out of bed, rolling his shoulders as his feet set down on the soft dark red carpeting. He was tense, but go figure. He didn't know what to do about this. He shook out, maneuvering around the coffee table and over to the door to his bathroom. How does somebody even take care of a kid? He wondered.

Especially a kid with amnesia who used to be your archnemesis.

Grimmjow caught himself thinking too much and shoved his wonderings out of his head. He had made a strict vow to follow his gut, and his gut wasn't fueled by logic. He would get it done. By the skin of his teeth, but it would get done. It always did; not that he was going to like doing it, but it wouldn't last long. Ulquiorra was bound to fuck it up sometime soon, and then he'd get killed. As weak as he was, Aizen didn't need him now.

Grimmjow shut the door behind him, making it just him and the sparkly white tile. He paused for a moment and looked at the golden doorknob before locking it. He normally did it; then again, he usually went to bed naked and that would have been a bad idea too. He slipped his black boxers off easily, letting them pool on the floor as he stepped out of them. He popped into the shower stall before starting the water. He kept it frigid, the sudden flood of icy fluid shocking him fully awake.

The temperature made his skin pale, but he just scrubbed the color back into them like he always did. He started to numb, and only then did he finally turn the heat up, pushing some of his water-heavy hair out of his face. The water quickly escalated in temperature, and Grimmjow's shoulders turned a splotchy red with the heat. Grimmjow, done washing up, angled so that only his right shoulder was under the relaxing flow.

He started in with his usual massage. He always worked his right arm and shoulder until it was so loose that he almost couldn't feel it. It limbered him up for the day, readying him for any of the many fights he got himself into. He smiled wildly, thinking of the various people he wanted to destroy today. Yammy, that bastard Nnoitra, he kind of wanted to serve it to his Fraccion, Gantenbainne- one of the Privaron- was always a good spar, Ulquiorra-

Grimmjow stopped. Ulquiorra. No, there was no Ulquiorra to fight anymore, not now. Grimmjow frowned. That just felt kind of… unreal. He had always fought with Ulquiorra, for as long as he could remember. In 150 years, he hadn't spent a single day without trying to get Ulquiorra on the battlefield, prove his worth as a fighter, not one. Suddenly, that had changed. How… queer. He shook it off. He didn't care- he could find somebody just as tough. He turned the water off.

There was a knock on the door as he was tying his hakama on, and he quickly walked over. He didn't want to wake Ulquiorra up, mostly out of the fear of having to answer a shitload of questions all over again. Hallibel was standing there patiently, holding some neatly folded black and white clothes in her hands. She held them out. "Here," she said, "Aizen-sama has had these made for Schiffer." Grimmjow tied his hakama off firmly.

"Great," he said sarcastically, taking the new uniforms.

"Please don't be difficult, Grimmjow," Hallibel said, proper as ever. Her calm green eyes stared into his own easily. "You must remember that Schiffer is no longer Ulquiorra. If you are constantly angry with him he will be confused; he doesn't remember any of your past fights. He is also a child now. You must take care not to impress upon him things that could stunt his growth. This is critical." Grimmjow rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Got it," he said. "Appreciate the insight, Hallibel." Hallibel nodded. She probably knew that Grimmjow hadn't been listening, but she probably also knew not to expect him to. She had said what she needed to say, and as far as she was concerned that was the end of it. She turned and left.

Grimmjow looked down at the bundle of clothes in his arms as the door closed, sealing off the light from the hallway. He still hadn't turned any of his own lights on, and the only sunlight that came in streaked lazily in a golden mixmatch from the closed blinds. Grimmjow looked over at Ulquiorra, who was curled up on the couch with his back to the room. Grimmjow chucked the clothes at him, scoffing as the teen jumped at the sudden contact with the thrown items. He sat up immediately, looking over at Grimmjow wide-eyed.

"Get up," Grimmjow ordered. "I said you could sleep on my couch, I didn't say you could do it for free. Get a shower, I've got some work for you to do." Ulquiorra scrambled up, clutching the clothes to his chest. He tripped over the thin sheets Grimmjow had loaned him, landing flat on his face.

It was gonna be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, at least Ulquiorra was quiet.

Although that _was_ the only good thing that Grimmjow could get out of the situation, besides that Ulquiorra did all the lackey work for him. The kid never asked for anything, but Grimmjow could tell it was because he was afraid to. It had been two days, and most of the time Grimmjow left Ulquiorra alone in his room. He hadn't broken anything yet. Granted, he was so clumsy that Grimmjow had come to think of that as a minor miracle, which was why he was going to give Ulquiorra a new task- one that took him away from Grimmjow's things.

"Oi," he called, stepping into his room. Ulquiorra snapped his head up quickly, his arm still shoved deep into the crevice between the couch and the carpet. "Did you drop something?" Grimmjow asked warningly.

"No, no," Ulquiorra said quickly. "Well, yes, but I've almost got it." Grimmjow sighed, aggravated.

"Fine, whatever. Damn you're a pain in my ass. C'mon, I've got something for you to do," Grimmjow ordered.

"Something?" Ulquiorra said, looking up at Grimmjow from his awkward pose.

"Yeah, something, come on!" Grimmjow said loudly. "You can get what you dropped later." Ulquiorra pulled his arm out from the darkness with some difficulty and scrambled up, but Grimmjow didn't stay around to watch him stumble. The older arrancar turned and left his room, not caring that Ulquiorra was tripping over his skinny self in his attempt to catch up. As long as he didn't trip over any of Grimmjow's furniture.

Eventually Ulquiorra caught up to him, even though Grimmjow purposefully kept the pace so quick that Ulquiorra was almost jogging to keep up. Grimmjow liked it that way; _he _was the stronger one now, and he was going to make sure that Ulquiorra knew it. "Hurry up, shortie," he demanded, not slowing down a click.

He kept Ulquiorra struggling to keep up all the way out of the main building and out into Aizen's fake sunlight. He paused to look up at the domed sky for a moment. He wasn't going to lie, it pissed him off. "…Um, Grimmjow-san?" Ulquiorra asked meekly.

"What?" Grimmjow responded.

"I… thought it was always night in Hueco Mundo," Ulquiorra said, looking and Grimmjow. Grimmjow got really ticked at how dependant Ulquiorra was, and how he seemed to trust Grimmjow not to lie to him. Ulquiorra had only ever relied on himself, didn't trust anyone, much less the Sexta Espada, and Grimmjow was the same. He was a lone hunter, and had always preferred it that way. He didn't' need people, and he didn't like it when other people needed him. He was working on shaking the twerp.

"It is," he said gruffly. "Aizen made a fake sky."

"Why?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Hell if I know," Grimmjow answered unhelpfully. "Come on, you're stalling." He started back up again, his feet sinking oddly into the heavy sands, dust floating up, and he heard Ulquiorra struggling with the unfamiliar flooring behind him. He sighed aggravatedly, but it wasn't like he was going to stop and help. Ulquiorra probably had his hands and arms spread out for balance or something instead of in the huge pockets in the front of his jacket thing. It was built like a human hoodie, with pockets on the stomach and a black zipper. It had a hood, too, that Ulquiorra kept down. The hoodie was about halfway unzipped, a black t-shirt visible. All over a pair of hakama. Grimmjow thought that all that baggy clothing just made the teen look punier.

He heard an oof and turned around, rolling his eyes angrily as he did so. He looked disdainfully down at the boy who was getting up off of the ground; this was pathetic. Ulquiorra looked up and saw Grimmjow's glare. He looked embarrassed. "Um, s-sorry," he said, quickly trying to regain his footing. There were grains of white sand in his jet-black hair, but he didn't notice and Grimmjow didn't say any thing. After all those years of Ulquiorra being a shit, Grimmjow could do whatever he damn well pleased to get back at him. Even if Ulquiorra couldn't remember what Grimmjow was getting back at him for.

"Jesus," Grimmjow said, "you are the slowest piece of fuck I've ever met. Hurry it up- and stop falling over yourself. Aizen'll blame me if you twist your ankle or something."

"R-right. Sorry," Ulquiorra said, hurrying to catch up again. Grimmjow stewed in his annoyance, traversing the familiar trail easily. He couldn't tell that Ulquiorra was debating over speaking or not. "You know, I- I kind of _like_ that there's a sun," he said after a minute. They stopped at a small-ish shack that didn't look like it belonged, with its old wood and antique-seeming stature, among the sand and perfectly manicured towers. Grimmjow couldn't believe his ears.

"Seriously?" he asked, staring at Ulquiorra like he was an alien. "Damn, you're like a fucking human!" He unlocked the door to the lone-standing shed and stepped into the darkness, the only light shining through the gaps in the wood. Rods and scraps of metal lay around everywhere, and against one wall Grimmjow's prized possession loomed; his beautiful forge.

"What do you mean by that?" Ulquiorra asked, stepping inside after Grimmjow. He didn't sound offended, just confused.

"Well, uh," Grimmjow said, trying to find the words to explain- not that Ulquiorra deserved an explanation or anything, but Grimmjow was nice enough to give him one out of the goodness of his heart. "Humans are weak. Weak things cling to the light so they can see if there are strong things around to kill them. We- and by we I mean not you- are strong. We thrive on darkness, because we know that there isn't anything that can hurt us. That's why it's naturally black here, I guess. That way only strong things survive." Ulquiorra blinked at him.

"Oh," he said.

"You wouldn't survive," Grimmjow reaffirmed. He didn't want this dumbass getting any wrong ideas.

"I still won't," Ulquiorra said quietly, like he didn't mean for Grimmjow to hear. Despite himself, Grimmjow felt a spike of pity. He shook it off with a lethal growl- Grimmjow Jaegerjaques didn't pity… pity… _trash._ That had always been his status; trash. Now it was the other way around, and Grimmjow would slowly put Ulquiorra through the same hell that he'd given. "Is that why Aizen made the sun in here?" Ulquiorra asked, clearly talking to Grimmjow this time. "Because he's stronger in the light?"

Grimmjow snorted. "Not quite," he said.

"Then why?" Ulquiorra asked. "Wouldn't he want you all to be at your strongest, in the dark?"

"Of course not," Grimmjow said. "He wants us all to be weak, so that he can be stronger. People don't care about other people here. Strength is all that matters." Ulquiorra looked down.

"Oh," he said again. He looked like a lost kitten. Not a cute one though, definitely not- he looked like a lost kitten that had really ratty fur and hissed at everything that moved. Yeah.

"Oi," Grimmjow said, pointing with his thumb at the mess over his shoulder, "c'mon. You've got a job to do." Ulquiorra's head came up and he looked around with interest.

"Is this… a blacksmith shop?" he asked. "Is it yours?"

"No, I'm going to let you run rampant in someone else's shop and take the blame for it when you break something," Grimmjow replied sarcastically. Ulquiorra hunched over a little.

"I haven't broken anything yet," he defended weakly, fidgeting.

"Yet," Grimmjow echoed. "Look, I've been itching to get back in here but I can't even get to the forge because it's so messy. I've been meaning to clean it, but I've been busy"- which was a total lie- "so now it's your job." Ulquiorra looked around at the mess with wide eyes.

"O-okay," he said. he looked a little overwhelmed, but he probably knew that he didn't have a choice. Damn right he didn't.

"Good," Grimmjow said anyway. "Put rods in one place and scraps in another. Just make sure that I can get to the forge," he shouted over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

"W-wait!" Ulquiorra called, "where are you going?"

"I'll come back and get you tonight!" Grimmjow answered, not looking back. He kept his hands in his pockets striding away easily.

"But-" Grimmjow's foot hit the ground and he launched into sonido. He didn't want to have to listen to Ulquiorra's whining. He told that brat he'd come back, so he would. When the other foot touched down, it was on the tile of Las Noches' hallways. There was a little thing with long black ponytails outside his door. He frowned, his lip curling up a little.

"What're you doing, Menoly?" he growled. Aizen's fraccion jumped and spun around, purple eyes wide. She was scared of him. Good.

"I'm not doing anything," she said quickly and defensively, one of her feet backing up in a classic give-away that she wanted to run, and run fast.

"Really?" Grimmjow said dangerously. "'Cuz it looks to me like you were trying to pick my lock." Menoly quickly hid her tools behind her back.

"No I wasn't!" she bit back.

"Yeah?" Grimmjow threatened. "Then what were you doing? And don't you dare say that you were just trying to fix a loose bolt."

"That's none of your business," Menoly snapped. Grimmjow glowered.

"That's a pretty damn funny thing to say in this situation," he said. He didn't miss Menoly's surprised, terrified look as he disappeared. He leaned forward from behind her to whisper in her ear, "You can't even follow my speed." Menoly gasped and whirled around, teeth grit as she thrust her dagger-like zanpakuto at him, but Grimmjow just caught her arm easily. Menoly glared at him hatefully.

"Well, what's goin' on here?" Grimmjow heard. Not letting go of Menoly's arm, he turned his head to see Aizen's right-hand man grinning like a fox behind them. The white-haired ex-shinigami leaned, amused, against the wall, watching the spectacle.

"Nothing," Grimmjow said, letting the little bitch in his grasp go. "Just catching a snoop." Menoly rubbed her arm and 'tch'ed, turning around and stomping off down the hall. Her too-short skirt flounced. Grimmjow could feel that Gin was still watching him, and he knew nothing good could come out of that. He just ignored the other man, pulling out his key and sliding it into the keyhole.

"Maah, Grimmjow-kun, how're things goin' with yer new friend?" Grin asked. Grimmjow scowled, jiggling the key. It wasn't turning.

"He ain't my _friend,_" Grimmjow said. "I hate that damn bastard."

"Eh?" Gin said, cocking his head. "Still?"

"Of _course_ still," Grimmjow huffed. Stupid key!

"Aww, that's mean, Grimmjow-kun!" Gin drawled. "From what I've gathered, Schiffer-"

"Why do you _call_ him that?" Grimmjow asked, exasperated. "Argh, God damn!" he cursed as his key slipped out of the lock.

"Oh? surely, Grimmjow-kun, you don't still think of him as Ulquiorra?"

"Of course I do!" Grimmjow said. "He _is_ Ulquiorra."

"Hmm," Gin said. "Y'know, Grimmjow-kun, there is no such thing as a new soul. All souls are recycled- but they are never the same in one life as another. Y'see, the soul is just the foundation. The circumstances they live in pile stuff on the top until you can't barely see the soul itself anymore. Then when that soul dies, all that gets wiped off and the soul starts all over."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Grimmjow shouted. The key turned, finally.

"I'm just tryin' to help ya understand," Gin said, "that Ulquiorra no longer exists. The things that made him who he was ain't there anymore. He's a whole new being."

Grimmjow growled and slammed

the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, Grimmjow wouldn't say he wasn't pissed. He just wouldn't say what he was pissed about.

He really didn't like what that fox-faced bastard had said yesterday. Of course Ulquiorra still existed! Grimmjow had picked him up last night and dropped him off again that morning, had woken him up with a sock to the head. And he was sure, that head had been very there. He yanked hard on the coarse, flat ribbon-like material on Pantera's hilt. He always re-wrapped it after a fight, to make sure that he was totally ready to kick ass next time.

A bloody rag sat next to him on his bed, streaked from where he wiped down his blade. He felt his right shoulder blade sting as he maneuvered his arm, a medium-deep slash placed nicely right where it would bug him for the rest of the day. By tomorrow it would heal up enough to not be an issue, but because of where it was he couldn't wrap it. Joy. Grimmjow sighed.

There was a knock on the door. "Whaddaya want?" he shouted.

"Sorry, boss," Shawlong said, "but I got Schiffer for you." There was that name again. Grimmjow realized that he'd forgotten to go get the twerp. He frowned.

"Fine. Let him in." The door slid open and Ulquiorra timidly walked in.

"Thank you, Shawlong-san," he said, looking at the tall man on the other end of the threshold. Grimmjow saw Shawlong nod and turn away, ever dutiful, and his mouth twitched down at the respectful way that Ulquiorra spoke. Respect was something that Ulquiorra would never have felt before. "Grimmjow-san, I-" Ulquiorra gasped as he saw the blood staining Grimmjow's white jacket.

"What?" Grimmjow asked roughly.

"Uhm, your- your shoulder…" Ulquiorra said, pointing nervously at it.

"What about it?" Grimmjow replied, rolling his eyes. Ulquiorra had seen people gutted, and here he was paling at something like this? Ulquiorra shrunk a little, like he could tell what Grimmjow was thinking and was ashamed of how pathetic he was.

"…I… do you want me to-to… wrap it for you?" he asked, unsure. Grimmjow stared at him.

"Yeah," he said, waving his hand in an angry way. "Ya gotta do something ta make yourself useful around here." Ulquiorra scurried into the bathroom to grab the gauze, and Grimmjow turned back to his sword. He wrapped the ribbon around, twisting it to make ½ of the x that was there for grip. He took the other end and did the same before turning his sword around until the ends were facing him again. He repeated the action, and Ulquiorra came back out with an armful of medical supplies.

"Um… do I…?" he trailed off.

"Just get on the bed behind me," Grimmjow instructed. He couldn't believe that Ulquiorra couldn't even take the initiative to do that. Ulquiorra quickly followed his orders, clambering onto Grimmjow's red sheets. The bed dipped with his weight. Grimmjow could feel Ulquiorra shifting nervously, his hands up by Grimmjow's shoulder but immobile. Grimmjow sighed. Okay, fine. He started to take off the jacket, just to get Ulquiorra moving, but Ulquiorra freaked.

"W-wait, Grimmjow-san!" he said. "You'll injure yourself more!" Grimmjow 'tch'ed.

"Please," he said, "this is nothing. Your regeneration may be faster than mine, but that doesn't mean that I don't heal."

"Re-regeneration?" Ulquiorra said quietly. "I can regenerate?"

"Yeh," Grimmjow said, tossing his jacket aside. "Now get to it!"

"R-right!" Ulquiorra said jumpily. Grimmjow just kept wrapping, but Ulquiorra looked at the gash and gulped. He had never seen an injury like that. "Are- are you sure you don't need stitches?" he asked. Grimmjow scoffed again.

"Just wrap it!" he ordered. He could practically feel Ulquiorra nod his head nervously. God, this kid was too much. He made the second half of another x and turned his sword around as Ulquiorra timidly dabbed at the area around the wound, probably trying to clear some of the blood away but clearly attempting not to hurt his landlord. He probably knew that his head would roll for it. Granted, Ulquiorra didn't have a hope of hurting him now. Grimmjow turned his sword sharply.

Ulquiorra gingerly wiped the wound with something that stung, probably an alcohol swab. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, but didn't stop the kid. If it made him feel better to do useless stuff, then Grimmjow would put up with it- to a point. Grimmjow could only bring himself to be nice for so long. The current record was thirteen minutes. Ulquiorra picked up a large gauze pad that he'd brought out with him and Grimmjow could feel him taping it cautiously over the open wound. Another completely useless act, but then again it was probably more to hide the sight than it was to help it heal. God, Ulquiorra was a weakling.

Only once he was done with that did Ulquiorra pick up a gauze roll, carefully holding down the end and starting to wrap. But Ulquiorra was, of course, tiny in comparison to Grimmjow, and Grimmjow could feel him hesitate for a moment before leaning forward awkwardly. Grimmjow was caught by surprise as Ulquiorra practically hugged him, trying to avoid as much physical contact as possible while he passed the roll from one white hand to another. Ulquiorra quickly darted back again, and Grimmjow could tell that he was waiting for Grimmjow to chew him out. Grimmjow sighed.

He'd kind of thought that Ulquiorra would get scared and stop, but he didn't. he kept wrapping around Grimmjow's toned chest, if stiffly, and Grimmjow realized that he could feel Ulquiorra's heat through the teen's shirt as he pressed his front against Grimmjow's back again and again. That was creepy; Grimmjow didn't like having anyone touch him so closely, unless he was in a fight or having sex, and he was doing neither. For some reason, the idea of sex with the person behind him wasn't entirely barf-inducing, which was pretty barf-inducing in itself. He pointedly ignored it, chalking it up to the fact that he hadn't fucked anything in weeks, and fighting the natural reflex to haul out and punch Ulquiorra for getting too close.

Once Ulquiorra was done, he sat back awkwardly. "Um it's- it's done," he said.

"Yeah, I noticed," Grimmjow said caustically. He didn't thank Ulquiorra as the boy nodded and got up, getting the unused items and trash and walking to the bathroom with his shoulders hunched. He had offered to do it, after all. He volunteered. Volunteers didn't need thanks. By the time Ulquiorra came back out, Grimmjow was laying down in his bed with his back to the room, trying to get some sleep in early. The more sleep he had, the sooner he would heal, and if he was lucky he'd be able to be back on the battlefield tomorrow. He heard Ulquiorra just stand there and look at him for a second, like he had something he wanted to say, but Grimmjow didn't turn to face him. Ulquiorra had to learn to get some guts. It didn't happen that night, though, and Ulquiorra just shuffled over to the couch.

Grimmjow wasn't sure why he was disappointed.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a light, meek touch on Grimmjow's arm. He couldn't really feel it all that much, the touch unreal, and in his sleep-dazed mind he thought that maybe it must have been still in a dream. He grunted and ignored it, but it wouldn't go away.

"…ow-san," a voice called. "Grimmjow-san, please wake up. Grimmjow-san." Grimmjow realized that it wasn't a dream at all. Suddenly he was wide awake and, in an explosion of sheets, he swung a fist at where the person's head must be. Ulquiorra meeped and stumbled back, falling on his butt hard as he clumsily avoided Grimmjow's punch. He looked up at Grimmjow, startled. Grimmjow growled.

"Don't _do_ that, dammit!" he said. "What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?"

"S-sorry, Grimmjow-san," Ulquiorra said, looking down at his lap, "but there's a meeting. Aizen just called it." Grimmjow jumped out of bed.

"Aw, shit!" he said. He couldn't afford to be late for another meeting! He was suddenly glad he'd gone to bed in his hakama the night before. "Oi, help me get this wrapping off!" he said to Ulquiorra, clawing at it. Ulquiorra hurried to stand.

"Are- are you sure you want to take them off now?" Ulquiorra asked. "Shouldn't they stay on a little longer?" Grimmjow glared. He was _not_ in the mood to deal with some bratty teenager.

"Have you really not been paying attention this whole time?" he shouted. Ulquiorra winced. "This is Hueco Mundo! People here take advantage of other people's weaknesses! An injury is a weakness! Do you _want_ me to get attacked?" Ulquiorra bowed his head low, shoulders bowing like somehow he could protect himself by doing so as he shook his head miserably. "Then get this shit offa me!" Ulquiorra nodded and went to grab the scissors.

As Ulquiorra cut the gauze loose with a snip, Grimmjow grabbed his jacket and Pantera. As soon as the gauze was off- with a surprised gasp from Ulquiorra at seeing the rate it had already healed at- he shrugged his jacket on. "C'mon," he ordered, "if we're late I'm blaming you." Ulquiorra hurried along.

Out in the hall, Grimmjow said, "Just sit still and don't say anything and maybe nobody'll kill you." He didn't look to see Ulquiorra nod, and in his tired, ticked off state he couldn't tell that Ulquiorra wanted to ask something.

"You make it sound like nobody liked me," he said quietly.

"Nobody did," Grimmjow said brutally.

"…Did _you_ like me?" Ulquiorra asked. Grimmjow turned the knob to Aizen's throne/meeting room.

"I hate you," he said, pulling the door open without looking at the unhappy kid. He stepped into the meeting, and everyone looked up at him. Naturally, they all looked like they had been waiting for him- a rather familiar sight. Only this time there was a thin little teenager hiding behind him.

"Welcome, Grimmjow, Schiffer," Aizen said in an eerily jovial way. "Please, sit down. I am sure you know that we're here to decide what to do with you as you are now, right, Schiffer?" Ulquiorra nodded uncertainly as Grimmjow sat down at the round table. Ulquiorra realized that there was only one chair left and hesitatingly sat in it, clearly nervous and afraid of doing something wrong. Watching him was almost painful.

"Well then, Schiffer," Aizen said with a plastic smile, "first things first, yes? Where is your zanpakuto?"

"My… what?" Ulquiorra asked, eyes wide.

"Oh, _come on!_" Grimmjow said. "I _told_ you about this!" Another dangerous weight of reiatsu was placed on his shoulders.

"Grimmjow, please refrain from interrupting out meeting," Aizen said. "This is a lot for Schiffer to adjust to so suddenly." Grimmjow simmered and fell silent. He didn't want Aizen to crush him with his spiritual pressure, and he definitely wasn't going to risk that over Ulquiorra. The twerp was on his own.

"No, he's- he's right," Ulquiorra said, making eyes all around the table go wide. Had Ulquiorra Schiffer just admitted that someone besides him was legitimate? "He did tell me all of this. A zanpakuto is a… sword, sort of, right?" Aizen blinked, but quickly smiled again.

"Yes, that's right," he said. "Yours came around to us yesterday. Why don't you stay after a few minutes and we'll get it for you. Perhaps then Grimmjow would remember not to be so irritable, hm?" Those brown eyes slid over to the said irritated blue-haired Arrancar, who only 'tch'ed.

"Um, it's okay," Ulquiorra said, fidgeting a little in his seat. "Grimmjow-san's letting me sleep on his couch, so…"

"Schiffer," Starrk said, for one awake and semi-attentive, "if that pissy cat gets on your nerves you have my full permission as your superior to kill 'im." Ulquiorra blanched.

"What? No, I-"

"Ha!" Nnoitra said loudly, "like that'd ever happen! Look at this little prick! He couldn't even get past Szayel!" Szayel adjusted his glasses on his face.

"I resent that, Nnoitra," he said.

"Sorry, sorry," Nnoitra lied before cracking a massive, shit-eating grin. "I said that he can't get past Aaroniero!" The Quinta Espada laughed uproariously as Ulquiorra hunched over more. He looked like he wanted to cry. Grimmjow didn't defend him.

"That's enough," a calm, feminine voice said amongst the racket. Everything quieted down and Grimmjow saw Ulquiorra look up at Hallibel hopefully. In this situation, she was his savior. She looked at him, completely ignoring everyone else the way she did. "Pay no mind to them. They are just fools and half-rate fighters, they aren't worth your time." There were raucous shouts from the lower-ranking Espada, but she ignored them and just held Ulquiorra's eyes. Ulquiorra looked star-struck with her kindness towards him, and that disgusted Grimmjow.

"Thank you, Hallibel," Aizen said, and all attention suddenly snapped to him and what they were originally there for. "That was a rather riotous moment. As always, your calm demeanor has settled it down." Hallibel nodded. "Now, back to the topic at hand. It is clear that our Cuarta Espada is no longer able to hold that rank. I have done a great deal of thinking on this subject, and I believe it to be best to stick with tradition. There is currently no-one who has proven themselves worthy of his title, and therefore I have chosen to allow Schiffer to remain the Cuarta Espada until someone defeats him. I also would like to outlaw any current Espada from taking a grab at his place." There were groans all around.

"_That_ still won't take long," Yammy said, resting his jaw on his meaty hand.

"If you need anything, Schiffer," Hallibel said, "feel free to come to me."

"I- I think I will, thanks," Ulquiorra said, giving a little smile to the Tetra. That was the very first time Grimmjow had ever seen him smile.

"Very well, then," Aizen said. "This meeting is adjourned. I am glad that this decision could be agreed upon." As if he had asked anyone there. "Schiffer, please stay a moment." Grimmjow was the first out of his chair. There was no way in hell he was waiting.

Shawlong was outside, and as Grimmjow passed him the superior of the two said gruffly, "Stay here and get Ulquiorra and take him to my forge. I'm going back to bed." And with that, he walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

*A smile. One gorgeous, sweet smile on dually colored lips. A smile that broke the world apart.

Grimmjow was standing amongst a beautiful group of grey stone columns, ruins, on a huge clear area with a stone-cobbled circular floor. Up the stairs and into the side of the mountain Grimmjow was facing was a temple that at one time must have been incredibly beautiful, and was still stunning in its own right. The blaze of the setting sun hit the side, and Grimmjow watched the light dwindle. He wasn't normally one to stop and marvel at the world around him, but looking to all sides now he was sure he had to do it more. Even the sharp edges of the ruins were perfect in their chaos.

"Wow," he heard someone whisper behind him. He turned and saw Ulquiorra, whose hands were in his hoodie pockets and whose green eyes were bright and wide. "Just... Wow..." For once Grimmjow wasn't irritated that the kid was there. Was this what was called Nirvana? The thought entered Grimmjow's mind, and he shook his head at the stupidity of it even as he realized that it just could be. He felt calm, calm like he hadn't been in a long time.

Grimmjow turned back and watched the sun dipping ever lower in a beautiful blaze of yellows, oranges and pinks. The night crept up on the other side of the sky, but it wasn't a threatening thing in the slightest- more like a return home after a walk in the woods. Everything was the way Grimmjow felt it was meant to be, and Ulquiorra's being there felt natural as well. Grimmjow wanted to wonder why, but he just didn't.

He suddenly felt a mild desire to know if Ulquiorra liked it as much as he did. He turned around to find out, see the answer on the other's face; he gasped in horror. Ulquiorra's existence was fading, slowly becoming see through as the sun set. Those slitted green eyes looked at him in confusion. "Is something the matter?" he asked innocently. Grimmjow choked helplessly.

"There shouldn't be," an eerily, terrifyingly familiar voice sounded, and Grimmjow whirled around. Something inside of himself rejected what he knew was there- but as his eyes set on the filmy black-and-white image he was certain of what it was. Who he was. The raven hair, short again, the cold green eyes that had never had any light in them, the tear tracks running down his face- Ulquiorra stood there, the old Ulquiorra, his mask replaced. His blackened aura was back, and through his body Grimmjow could see the temple now crumbling.

"There should be no surprise," Ulquiorra repeated emotionlessly. "The trash said himself that you are a creature of the light, like a human. He should have been aware of this."

"What?" the other Ulquiorra asked, and Grimmjow looked at him. He had taken a step back, and he looked petrified. He was even less visible, and as he faded his counterpart grew in substance. "Who are you?"

"I am you," the _other_ other Ulquiorra said. The younger Ulquiorra's eyes widened with fear.

"What? No!" he cried. As the darkness swept across the sky, the old Ulquiorra's reiatsu became more powerful, and the feel sent chills down Grimmjow's spine. He had never thought to feel that again. "You can't be me, _I__'__m_ me!"

"Trash," Ulquiorra stated. "Can you not see the truth?"

"No!" Ulquiorra shouted. "I don't want to be you! I don't!"

"How unfortunate," Ulquiorra said apathetically.

"But- but you're horrible! I'm not horrible! I'm not!" Ulquiorra cried desperately. As the light shrank to a line on the horizon, his form was so see through that it was nearly mist.

"Clearly, you are," Ulquiorra said. He was nearly solid now, and Grimmjow's head was spinning.

"No!" Ulquiorra said again. "No!" Grimmjow watched in horror as the last of the teen lightened and disappeared, but his voice still rang out. All the light was gone, replaced by the night. "I don't want to be you!" Terrified, Grimmjow whirled around to face the only other being left and met those frigid green eyes as they looked at him in return. Grimmjow's heart was pounding, the very rock under his feet split with the beat of it, breaking into spidering cracks with every pulse. And still that voice rang out from the nothingness behind him, crying, "I don't believe you! _I__don__'__t__want__to__be__you!__"_

Grimmjow felt that the careless stone had put some sort of horrible hex on him, that was how thoroughly he was rooted to the spot. He was completely unable to move, some sort of absolute and primal fear in his blood baking his arteries tingle. His heart burned like acid in his chest. His eyes followed one of Ulquiorra's white hands as it slowly came up and glided to the hilt of his sword, and he metallic sound of the blade sliding from its sheath sounded just like Grimmjow's own sword coming clear to deliver an earth-shattering blow that shattered so much more than that. The cracks moved faster.

Ulquiorra maneuvered his sword with ease to point the tip of it to the ground, and instead of reflecting any light left it reflected the shadows. There were no stars in the now pitch-black sky. Then, with a sudden efficient swiftness, the tip of that sword was thrust into on blackened crack that reached for Ulquiorra's ankles and Grimmjow was falling as the rocks separated below him, plunging him into endless darkness. He cried out, even knowing that Ulquiorra would never aid him. Voices rang like phantoms in the black.

_You can't be me, **I****'****m**me!_

_Ulquiorra no longer exists._

_Schiffer is no longer Ulquiorra._

_He's a whole new being. _

_Don't tell me ya still think a' Schiffer as Ulquiorra?_

_This is critical. _

_**I****'****m**me!_

And the inky black clutched at Grimmjow, closed over him possessively like water closes over a thrown rock, and all he could see was the old Ulquiorra staring down at him through the hole as he fell, his face framed by the hollow bone that Grimmjow was certain he'd broken.*

Grimmjow started, his body going rigid in his bed as his eyes flew open. He breathed roughly, focusing on a spot on his ceiling with all his might as the cold feelings of dread slowly snaked away. He began to calm, his body once more relaxing. Oh, God, he'd never had a dream so vivid before. He turned his head and saw Ulquiorra, the teen version of him, sleeping soundly. He was nearly relieved.

He scowled, shaking his head at himself. He was being stupid. So, he'd had a nightmare. What was he going to do, go cry to his dead mommy? He'd be fine. He was overreacting. He wasn't going to let it shake him. It was just a dream.

He flipped onto his side and closed his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Grimmjow paced through the halls with an angry scowl on his face. That goddamn dream was running through his head, and _he didn't know why. _It was just a fucking dream! Dreams shouldn't bother him. He was the king! It was driving him crazy, and he hated it. So, naturally, he was looking for a fight. He wanted to beat something to a pulp, to pack all his anger and sleep deprivation into his fists and punch it into whatever he could find just to get rid of it. The idea itself made him grin maniacally.

But his murderous aura had all the weaker arrancar dodging behind doors or ducking into dark corners. None of them were stupid enough to come close, and he wasn't in the mood to chase them down. The weaker Espada were out of the running as per Aizen's orders, and the stronger ones would kill him dead. Although being dead sounded preferable to having to babysit Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra! Aw, Grimmjow was a fucking genius. Ulquiorra was the center of all his frustrations anyway, and he was weak as shit now. And he had a legitimate excuse. He'd sent Ulquiorra down to the forge every day for two weeks, and he still wasn't done yet. He kept saying he was close, but all he had to do was clear a path and it sure as hell didn't take two weeks to do that. Who knew what that brat was doing in his smithee? He could burn all of Hueco Mundo down! Plus, on little threat and Ulquiorra would just say they were having a friendly spar when Aizen asked- because Aizen would definitely ask. Grimmjow bared his teeth and leapt into sonido.

He flew over the sands straight to his smithee, feeling excitement welling up in his chest. He'd wanted to punch Ulquiorra's lights out for a century and a half. He burst into the smithee- and stopped short. Ulquiorra, who had his back to him, started almost comically and let out a little yelp.

"The _hell?"_ Grimmjow said, looking around his little shack. The floor was swept clean, with several different piles of metal placed strategically where they wouldn't be in the way. The actual rods that had been laying around had been put up in the racks on the far wall, and almost everything had been cleaned as much as possible. All the hammers had been put in one metal bucket, and the other tools were grouped similarly.

"Did- did I do something wrong?" Ulquiorra asked anxiously.

"You-" Grimmjow started, "did you separate out the different metals?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra squeaked. "Is that okay-?"

"How?" Grimmjow asked. "Only a seasoned metalsmith could tell some of these apart by sight."

"The-they made different pitches," Ulquiorra cowered.

"_Pitches?"_ Grimmjow asked, gawking at him.

"Y-yeah," Ulquiorra said. "I hit all the pieces against this one piece and listened for the pitch."

"That's- that's fucking _brilliant,_" Grimmjow said. He was walking around to the piles to double check them and didn't see Ulquiorra's eyes get wide and a smile take his face.

"What kind of range for error does it have?"

"None," Ulquiorra said confidently. "I have perfect pitch." Grimmjow turned around.

"Perfect pitch?" he asked. "What is that?"

"I hear a note and I know what it is," Ulquiorra said proudly, looking brimming with happiness. "Or I see a note on a page and I know how it sounds."

"Huh," Grimmjow said, raising an eyebrow. His earlier rage was completely forgotten. Nothin' like having someone else do your job to make your day. "Did you teach yourself that?"

"I was born with it," Ulquiorra replied. "Um, what do I do with this...?" he held up the piece of metal in his hand. "If I hit it against something else it could change the pitch."

"That's basic old iron," Grimmjow said. "Put it in that pile. And stand back." As Ulquiorra dropped the scrap into the indicated pile, Grimmjow fired up and shot a cero to start the forge. Ulquiorra meeped.

"What was that?" he gasped, staring at the blaze as Grimmjow cranked in air.

"Cero," Grimmjow said, "you can do it too. Hey, hand me some of that."

Ulquiorra handed him some copper as Grimmjow shook his jacket off. "I can do that?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Yeah," Grimmjow said. "I'll teach you sometime. No back up a little." Ulquiorra moved back, and sat on the floor hugging his knees. Grimmjow pulled out a hammer and put the hot copper on the anvil, and for once he really didn't mind Ulquiorra watching raptly.

.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.

By the time Grimmjow was done with his copper tree (not the best he'd done, but it had been a while) the fake sun had disappeared for the sake of sleeping. Shawlong had come a few hours ago to retrieve Ulquiorra and had been surprised to find Grimmjow there. Ulquiorra had asked if he could stay, and Grimmjow had said, "Just let him stay, Shawlong, he actually hasn't broken anything yet." Shawlong had bowed respectfully and left, but not before Grimmjow saw an odd look assessing his good mood. Whatever, not like it mattered. Shawlong wouldn't question him.

Grimmjow used the tongs to dump the tree in the cold water he'd had Ulquiorra get, and it sizzled. Rule number one: hot metal looked like cold metal. Always cool everything so you don't have to worry about it. Ulquiorra hadn't bugged him, staying quiet and watching, and Grimmjow had almost forgotten he was there for the most part. He got really into his rhythm when he was smithing. When the hiss from the water stopped, he pulled out his creation and checked it over for imperfections caused by cooling. Finding none, he set it aside and extinguished the forge.

He looked tot he floor where Ulquiorra was leaning against a stump, ready to bark out his orders. The water needed to be dumped. But, looking down, he found Ulquiorra with his eyes closed, breathing softly. Was he _asleep?_ What kind of crazy was he? Grimmjow could so easily reach over and crush his fragile skull in one hand, and Ulquiorra would never even wake up to register it. You _never_ fell asleep in front of someone in Hueco Mundo, whether they were stronger than you or not. Even the most powerful fighters were at a disadvantage when asleep. How Starrk survived, Grimmjow would never know. And you _never_ trusted _anyone_ enough to lay your life in your hands like that, never; Nnoitra had gotten rid of his 'bed buddies' plenty of times that way when he tired of them.

And yet, here was Ulquiorra, weakest of the weak in all of the massive castle of Las Noches, asleep at the feet of one of the Espada. And Espada who had formerly considered it his mission in life to beat him into submission. And an utterly brutal killer, no less. Grimmjow should just drown him in the water, teach him a lesson in his final moments. Grimmjow kicked him, and he jumped awake.

"Oy," Grimmjow said, "c'mon or I'm leavin' ya." Ulquiorra scrambled up, but Grimmjow just strode off, hands in his pockets. It was good to scare him just a little.

Still, when Ulquiorra frantically called for him to wait, he slowed down just a little.


End file.
